" MAKE-UP BOOK "—HOW TO "MAKE-UP." A practical guide 
for Amateurs, with Illustrations. 



PR 4827 

No. CCCXCV 

.S8 

Copy 1 

FRENCH'S MINOR DRAMA 



THE ACTING EDITION 



^toeet Will 



A Comedy in One Act 



HENRY ARTHUR JONES 

AUTHOR OF 

The Middleman," "Wealth," " Saints and Sinners, '^^etc. 



25 Cents 



New York London 

SAMUEL FRENCH SAMUEL FRENCH Ltd. 

PUBLISHER ^ PUBLISHERS 

24 West 22d Street 26 Southampton St., Strand 



SWEET WILL 



A COMEDY 



IN ONE ACT 



BY 

HENllY ARTHUR JONES 

AUTHOR OF 
THE MIDDLEMAN," WEALTH," " SAINTS AND SINNERS," ETC. 



-^^m- 



-— < w^^ 



New York 
SAMUEL FRENCH 

PUBLISHKR 

24 WEST 22d STREET 



London 
SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 

PUBLISHERS 

26 Southampton St., Strand 



l^1-?3 



^K4^ZT 



<^ 



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fwi^ fysrformed at the New Clcb. Covent Garden, befof* 
H. R. H. the Prince of Wales, on Saturday. 

March 5, 1887 

PERSONS REPRESENTED. 



Mrs. Darbyshire {WilVs mother) Miss Le TniERa 

Mary Darbyshire {WiLVs sister) Miss Anxie Hughes 

Judith Loveless Miss Kate Rorke 

Betty {Wills old nurse) Miss Lavis 

V7ill Darbyshire Mr. E. W. Gardiner 






Time — A Winter s Evening. 
?>CBNB — Tlie Oak f^arlour at henny Ckusd. 



SWEET WILL, 



Scene. — The oak parlour at Fenny Chase, a cosy room in an 
old English manor house; the walls panelled in oak; old- 
fashioned well-worn furniture and drapery; doors r. and 
L. fireplace down l. bright fire burning: large bow window 
at back with curtains drawn across; lamp on table; every- 
thing bright and cosy for a winter's evening. 

Enter, door r., Betty, showing in Judith Loveless, in out- 
door dress, flecked with snow. 

Betty. If you'll take a scat by the fire, IMiss Judy, I'll 
tell Mrs. Darbyshire 3^ou're here. 

Judy (shivering). Whew! What a bitter night! 

Betty. Yes, I've been thinking what a cold journey Master 
Will '11 have down from London, won't he, miss.'' 

Judy (interested) . He is coming back to-night? 

(Crosses to fireplace, warms herself.) 

Betty. This very night. We expect him every minute, 
bless his dear soul! And such a cold as he had when he 
started! 

Judy. I don't think Mr. Darbyshire takes enough care of 
himself. 

Betty. Not he. But you leave him to ine. Miss Judy. 
I've got a big blazing fire lighted in his bedroom, and three 
extra blankets on his bed, and a big dose of rum and honey 
for him to take the last thing! 

Judy. You are a dear, good, faithful creature, Betty, and 
— and — (awkwardly taking out her purse) — and — I should like 
to make yovi a little present (offering money). 

Betty. Oh, no, Miss Judy, I couldn't think of being paid 
for taking care of my bo3^ 

Judy (confused). Oh — this — this is quite on my own 
account — a little Christmas box. 

Betty. Whv it wants three weeks to Christmas, Miss 
Judy! 

Judy. Yes, but I may forget it. (Impatiently.) Do tai^'" 
it, Betty. Don't be foolish. 



i 



SWEET WILL. 

Bettv {lathing it). Bless your dear eyes, Miss Judy! Ah! 
Master Will '11 have somebody better than his old nurse to 
take care of him one of these days, I'll be bound! 

luDY. What do you mean, Betty? 

{Confused, hiding her face from Bettv.) 

Betty {grinning and chuckling). Why all of us can see 
where his heart is! 

Judy {very pleased, still hiding her face from Betty; very 
softly). And where do you suppose it is, Betty? 

Betty {nodding her "^ head, with a knowing grin). Why, 
Miss Judy, your own heart has told you that, long ago. 

Judy. How dare you! {Angrily crossing the room.) Tell 
Mrs. Darbyshire I w'ish to see her, if she is disengaged. 

Betty. Yes, Miss Judy. I hope you are not offended. 

Judy. I am — very much offended. Never dare to take 
such liberties again! 

Betty. No. miss. Only the other morning, after you had 
left, I saw Master Will 

Judy. Well? 

Betty. But, I forgot, mi.'^s. I'll tell Mrs. DarVjyshire you 
are waiting. {Going.) 

Judy {calling her hack). Betty! {Exit Betty, l. Judy 
rushing to door l. calling off) Betty! 

Re-enter Betty. 

Betty. Yes, miss. 

Judy. I didn't mean to be angry with you just now. 

Betty {grinning and chuckling). Law, bless your dear 
heart. Miss Judy, I could see that! 

Judy {flaming up). Then I am very angry indeed with 
you! 

Betty. Yes, m.iss. {Going.) .^ 

Judy {calling her hack). Betty! 9 

Betty. Yes, miss. {Coming hack.) ^ 

Judy. But I'll forgive you this once, if you won't say such 
things again. 

Betty. No, miss. {Going.) 

Judy. And Betty, you know that tartan shawl of mine.^ 

Betty. What, the beautiful blue and green and j^ellow? 

Judy. Yes, it's of no further use to me. You can come to 
the rectory to-morrow morning and fetch it. 

Betty. Oh, no. Miss Judy, I couldn't think 

Judy. Yes, I insist. 

Betty {curtseying). Oh, thank you. Miss ,ud^^ {Going.) 

Judy {calling her). Betty! 

Betty. Yes, miss. 

Judy. You were saying the other morning after I had 
left 

Betty. Yes, miss. 



SWEET WILL. 5 

Judy {confused). You were saying that he — Mr. Darby- 
shire — I mean — I suppose after I had left — ■ — • 

Betty. Well, miss, it's no business of mine, but you re- 
member dropping your glove ? 

Judy. I did lose a glove. Did I leave it here? 

Betty. Yes, miss, and when I came in two minutes after- 
wards, there was Master Will a-kissing it as if he'd eat it. 
And that's as true as I'm standing here, Miss Judy. 

Judy {secretly pleased). How absurd of him! Tell Mrs. 
Darbyshire I wish to see her. 

Betty. Yes, miss. {Exit door l.) 

Judy. They all say he cares for me! Everybody notices 
it! And yet he never says a word! Oh, it is cruel of him! 

Enter door l. Mrs. Darbyshire, a very stately, silver-haired 
old lady. 

Mrs. D. My dear child, what brings you out this bitter 
night.-* {Kissing her tenderly.) 

Judy. Oh, the most important business in the world. I 
had two letters by this evening's post — now guess what one 
of them contains! 

Mrs. D. How can I, unless I see inside? 

Judy. And I rushed over here to ask your advice. 

Mrs. D. My advice? 

Judy. Yes, where should I go for advice now my own 
mother's dead, except to my dear old godmother? 

Mrs. D. Well, come and tell me all about it. 

Mrs. Darbyshire sits in annchair near fire; Judy throws 
off her. hat and cloak, and sits on footstool at Mrs. 
Darbyshire's feet. 

Judy {taking out letters). There's one of them. It's an 
offer of marriage! 

Mrs. D. An offer of marriage! Not from Will? 

Judy {much confused). From Will — from Mr. Darbyshire 
— oh dear no {laughing off her confusion). What put such an 
idea into your head ? 

Mrs. D. My dear, I couldn't think for the moment who 
else there could be. 

Judy. Oh, there are one or two other men in the workb 

Mrs. D. Not for me; not for his mother! 

{Putting on her spectacles.) 

Judy {aside, ivith. a sig!;). Nor for mcl 

Mrs. D. Btit it was very stupid of mo. Of course Will need 
not write to you when he is seeing you almost every day. 

Judy. No, he need not write to me. or indeed speak, at 
least on that subject. It would be quite hopeless for him 
either way. 



6 SWEET WILL. 

Mrs. D. {looking at Judy gravely over her spectacles). I am 
sorry to hear you say so, Judy. 

Judy (irritated) . Well, never mind him! Read this letter. 

Mrs. D. (having glanced at letter). From Mr. Samuel 
Gathercole, your father's former curate. 

Judy. Yes, he was always fond of me. And now he's got 
a hundred and fifty a year, instead of a hundred and twenty, 
and he speaks out. 

Mrs. D. Yes, my dear, curates are inclined to do that on 
even less than a hundred and fifty a year. 

Judy (impatiently). Well, am I to say "Yes" or "No"? 

Mrs. D. What does your own heart say? 

Judy. Oh, my heart tells fibs. I never listen to it. 

Mrs. D. It's a very small income to marry on. 

Judy. Perhaps he'll get a "living." 

Mrs. D. He'll be luckier than many poor curates if he does. 

Judy. And he might be made a bishop some day. 

Mrs. D. I don't wish to influence you, but Mr. Gather- 
cole is hardl> the man I should have chosen for you. To 
begin with, he has a red beard — carrotty, I might say. 

Judy. Oh, but there's quite a rich brownish tinge on it if 
you catch it in a certain light. 

Mrs. D. I never saw it in that light. 

Judy. And I daresav he'd shave it off to please me. 

Mrs. D. Well, my dear, you know best, and if you have 
made up your mind to have him 

Judy. I haven't made up my mind to have him, and as 
you don't like him, I'll write and say "No," and there's an 
end of the matter. 

Mrs. D. (kissing her). My dear Judy, you have made me 
so happy. 

Judy. Why, godmamma? 

Mrs. D. I"^must not tell you, I cannot tell you 

Judy. Yes, yes, you must, I insist 

Mrs. D. No, I cannot. It's only an old woman's fancy, 
and I might make you very unhappy. 

Judy (impetuously) . You cannot make me more unhappy 
than I am. (Rising.) 

Mrs. D. (rising). Judy! (Surprised.) 

Judy (hurriedly). No," no, I don't mean that — only I have 
just got such a stupid, impertinent letter from my cousin — or 
rather mamma's cousin, Mr. Boggett. 

Mrs. D. Boggett? That's the man who was staying with 
you at the rectory last summer. He came from America, 
did he not ? 

Judy. Yes, he has some flour mills at Chicago, and papa 
believes he's very rich and says I ought to keep on good 
terms with him. 

Mrs. D. He seemed a good-natured, well-meaning man, 
but decidedly coarse, emphatically not a gentleman. 



SWEET WILL. 7 

Judy. Oh, I believe he's a dear old fellow at heart. He 
wanted to marry mamma, you know, but as they were first 
cousins, grandfather objected. And so he never married. I 
suppose it was his love for mamma that made him so fond of 
me. And he took a great fancy to Mr. Darby shire. 

Mrs. D. {very proudly). Everybody takes a fancy to my 
Will. The Duchess of Clifton used to make a point of kiss- 
ing him in his perambulator. 

Judy. I've always understood she was a woman of very 
good taste. 

Mrs. D. Excellent taste, my dear. And the old Marquis 
of Naseby — a very wicked old man — bought him a humming- 
top in the Burlington Arcade. I don't say it because I'm 
his mother, but it is impossible to know my Will without 
loving him. 

Judy. Mr. Darbyshire took my cousin up to London and 
showed him all the places of interest, and Mr. Boggett was 
delighted. 

Mrs. D. Naturally he would be with an acquaintance like 
my son. I fear Will is a little too fond of making friend- 
ships in the lower and middle classes. The other day I 
actually caught him playing leapfrog with the common village 
boys. He ought to remember that he is the great-grandson 
of the thirteenth Earl of Grandborough! 

Judy. I don't think he ever troubles himself about that. 

Mrs. D. No, but he ought. I know that I am reduced in 
the world, but I never forget that I am the granddaughter of 
an Earl. Unfortunately, as you know, my dear, I married 
a poor country squire, who made ducks and drakes of his 
estate, and now here we are with a bare pittance, just enough 
to live upon and that's all. Will ought to be more ambitious 
— my cousin. Lord Grandborotigh, is Colonial Secretary, and 
he ought to see Will's talents, and do something for him. 

Judy (proudly). Mr. Darbyshire is too proud to beg a 
favour of any man. 

Mrs. D. Grandborough ought to do it without asking. 
What's the use of having a seat in the Cabinet unless you 
can provide for your poor relations? Now where's this 
dreadful letter from Mr. Boggett ? 

Judy. Here it is. 

Mrs. D. He has not presumed to propose to you? 

Judy. Worse than that! But before you read it you must 
give me your promise never to mention a word of it to any- 
body. 

Mrs. D. Certainly not, my dear, if you don't wish it. 

Judy. Not for the world! I wouldn't show it to you, only 
Mr. Boggett has enclosed a letter for your son, and I don't 
know what to do with it. 

Mrs. D. Give it to him. 

Judy. I daren't. 



8 SWEET WILL. 

Mrs. D. Why not? 

Judy. Read Mr. Boggett's letter to me, and then you will 
see. 

Mrs. D. (coming to lamp and reading). "My dear Judith, 
I suppose by this time you and Mr. Darbyshire have made 
up your minds upon the all-important question of matri- 
mony. You will excuse my plainness " 

Judy. I won't excuse it! 

Mrs. D. "But everybody could see that it was a match 
between the Chase and the Rectory " 

Judy. Isn't it shameful? 

Mrs. D. "So don't beat about the bush " 

Judy. I should like to beat him! 

Mrs. D. "But get the little affair settled as soon as you 
can, and come over to Chicago and spend your honeymoon 
with your affectionate cousin, Peter Boggett. P.S. — I en- 
close a letter for Will, which please hand to him the first tim^ 
you see him." Well, I am astounded! It is positively 
indelicate! 

Judy. It's downright impertinence! I'll never forgive Mr. 
Boggett {pacing up and down the room). Now, Mrs. Darby- 
shire, haven't I done everything in my power to show how 
perfectly indifferent I am toward your son ? 

Mrs. D. My dear child, I am so sorry you should be ex- 
posed to this. 

Judy. It's quite a trap for me. I am certain if we could 
see inside that letter we should find Mr. Boggett has said 
just the same thing to Mr. Darbyshire; and how can I give 
it to him? 

Mrs. D. It is very awkward. Shall I give it to Will? 

Judy. That Vv^otild be quite as bad. He would know it 
came through me, and he would think I wanted to marry 
him, and then — {holding down her head)— I should die for 
shame. 

Mrs. D. {taking her hands very tenderly). My dear Judy, 
if I ask you a question will you be frank with me ? 

Judy. It all depends what the question is. 

Mrs. D. If Will were to ask you to be his wife, what 
would you say? 

Judy {resolutely) . I should say "No." 

Mrs. D. Really and trul}^? 

Judy. Most decidedly, I should. 

Mrs. D. And you would stick to it? 

Judy. Yes— unless he pressed me very much. 

Mrs. D. And then 

Judy. Then I should say — I would think the matter over. 

Mrs. D. {tenderly stroking Judy's hair). Ah, my dear, 5'ou 
can't think how I have built upon your being my Will's wife. 

Judy {hugging her). Oh! 

Mrs. D. And I do beheve Will is fond of you. 



SWEET WILL. 9 

Judy. But so many girls are setting their caps at him. 
The abominable way in which Fanny Robinson intrigued to 
sit next to him at Mr. Pottinger's the other evening! I hate 
those Robinson girls! 

Mrs. D. I feel sure he cares for you. 

Judy. Has he ever said so? 

Mrs. D. Not in so many words. Will is the best of sons, 
but he does not give me all his confidence. Mary is his 
confidante. Now I cannot understand all these mysterious 
journeys to London. What business has he in London? 

Judy. Does he never tell you? 

Krs. D. Not a word; and he comes back worried and 
careworn as if he had some terrible secret. 

Judy. He returns to-night? 

Mrs. D. Yes, and I shall have a long talk with him. He 
is thi' 13^-two, and it is time he was maiiied and settled, i 
shall tell him I wish it. 

Judy (quickly). You will not sav a Wwfd about mei 

Mrs. D. I shall see I shall certamly tell him you have 
had an offer from Mr. Gathercole, 

Judy. Yes, you migh^ mention that. 

^Jrs. D. (suddenly). My dear Judy, a capital thoupbt has 
just struck me! Vv e'll make him jealous! \'cu sna^i telj 
him you are going to accept Mr. Gathercole's cfiV,:! 

Ji'DY. Oh, but I am not, you know. 

Mrs. D. Never mind, if he thinks somebod}^ eize is going 
to marr}^ you, it will ni^ike him speak out 

Judy. Perhaps it will. And I will keep this letter from 
cousin Peter until we see whether he does £{:-Li..^ out. It 
can't be very important, I should think (looking at letter). \ 
wonder what it sa3^s? 

'^Irs. D. (ringing bell). Now come vp^tairs. I want to 
show you- ;:hc new dressing-gow^n he gave me on my birth' 
day. And we can have a talk., and settle our plans. 

Enler Betty, door l. Jitdv puis t^iier -j?"- it^*r 4>ociiM. 

Mrs. D. Mr. Will has not come. Bertv • 

Betty. No, ma'am. 

Mrs. D. Let me ki^iow '.vhen he arrives. 

Betty. Yes, ma'am. (Exeunt Mrs. Darbvshire anal jxjD^', 
door, L. Betty draws aside the window ctiriains, discovers 
garden trees covered with snow, and snow jailing heavily: look- 
ing off r.) Bless me, here's a "night! Hark! There's some- 
body coming! That's his step! It's Master Will! It's my 
boy! That it is, bless his dear soul! (Going to door r-. she 
meets Will Darbyshire, who enters, covered with snow; ef- 
fusively.) Oh, Master Will, here you be! You're come back! 
Oh, my precious boy! There! Let me help you off with 
your coat. (Helping him off with his coat.) Oh what a night! 



10 SWEET WILL. 

Well to be sure! Ho^v glad I am to see you, bless your dear 
heart! 

Will. Hush! That's enough, Bett}^! Where's my sister? 

Betty. Upstairs in her room. 

Will. Tell her I wish to see her at once. 

Betty. Yes, that I will, and your mother, too. 

{Going off left.) 

Will. No, not my mother. She must not know I am 
here until I have seen my sister. 

Betty. Law, Master Will, and she's been a-worrying about 
you as never was; and Miss Judy's here, too, and she's longing 
to set eyes upon you, I'll be bound, bless her dear soul! 

Will {sternly). Do as I tell you, Betty. Send Miss Mary 
to me at once. 

Betty. Yes, Master Will. {Aside.) What's the matter now, 
I should like to know. {Exit l.) 

Will. Judy here! Then I must face her before I go! I 
thought to have spared myself that! God give me strength 
for this night's task! However I am tempted, not a word of 
love shall pass my lips. For her sake I must be silent! 

Enter l. Mary Darbyshire, 

Will.- Mary'- [ <"->- ««*™^^ '"■"-'''j') 

Mary. I am so glad you are home again, dear. Let me 
call mother. And Judy is here. 

Will {arresting her). No! Stay! I have something to tell 
you. 

Mary. To tell me? 

Will. Yes, and I m.ust be quick. My time is short. Sit 
here. {He places chair for her, then goes to each door and looks 
outside to see nobody is listening; during his narration he some- 
times stands over her and sometimes walks up and down; taking 
her hands.) Mary, you are a brave girl 

Mary. Oh, Will, you frighten me! What has happened? 

Will. Nothing to alarm 3^ou — something that perhaps will 
be a little hard to bear. Come now! Summon all your 
courage. I must tell you, and I have but a few minutes. Be 
brave, for my sake, for our mother's sake. 

Mary. Oh, Will, what is it ? Tell me. I can bear it. 
See, I am quite firm. 

Will. Well, briefly, the old Chase is mortgaged up to the 
hilt! And I am a beggar, and worse than a beggar! 

Mary. Oh, Will, why did you not tell us so before? 

Will. I thought I should right myself, but the seasons 
have been dead against me. and year after year I have been 
getting deeper and deeper into the mire, and now I can stave 
it off no longer. 

Mary. But how did the Chase become mortgaged? At 



SWEET WILL. 11 

father's death the estates were .sold and the mortgages paid 
off, and we were given to understand the Chase and the two 
home farms were quite clear. 

Will. Quite true, I thought so. But I found my father 
had left other claims 

Mary. Other claims? Gambling debts? 

Will. Worse than that. 

Mary. I don't understand. 

Will. It isn't fit you should. I cannot mention them to 
you, only to say that I was bound to meet them at any cost 
to preserve my mother from insult. That was the threat 
held over my head. What could I do? I was obliged to 
satisfy the harpies. Now ask no more. 

Mary {rising). Oh, wicked father! 

Will. Oh, let him be! He's gone to his rest. 

Mary. And left his sins for you to pay the penalty. Is 
it right ? 

Will {quietly). It's inevitable, at any rate. When a man 
throws off every natural responsibility, as poor dad did, why 
the burden is safe to fall upon somebody's shoulders. And 
it has happened to fall on mine — that's all. 

Mary {embracing him). Oh, Will, and all this while you 
have been wearing away your youth in this hopeless struggle, 
and you have never told us a word of it. 

Will {cheerfully) . Oh, I am only thirty-two and the world 
is never lost to a man at that age, with health on his side. 
Now, summon a little more courage, because I have some- 
thing else to tell you. ^m 

Mary. The Chase will have to be sold — we shaff have to 
leave it. 

Will. No, as good luck would have it — we shall keep the 
Chase. 

Mary. Of course, the money for ni}^ marriage settlement 
is gone, but that's no matter. Jack and I don't mind that 
a bit. 

Will. Oh, I have provided for that. 

Mary. Oh, Will, I won't have it, indeed I won't. 

Will. But you must. I have always kept that money 
iacred, and I paid in to the lawyer's last week three thousand 
pounds — I wish it were more. 

Mary. Then you shall take it back. {Very vehemently .) I 
will not touch it! Jack is poor, but not so poor as that. 
Take my word for it. Will, we will not touch a penny of it. 

Will. My dear girl, the matter's settled and the consols 
bought. But now you must bear to hear that I have to 
leave England for several years. 

Mary. Oh no. Will, not that! 

Will. Yes, and this very night {looking at watch). I go 
by the mail. 

Mary. You cannot mean it. It v/ill break mother's heart. 



12 SWEET WILL. 

Will. She must not know it. She must think I am going 
for a few weeks or months at the outside, and then we must 
break it to her by degrees. Oh, Mary, take care of her when 
I'm gone — I may never see her again! 

(Turning away his head.) 

Mary. Oh no, Will, it is too cruel to her. You must not 

go- 

Will. Indeed I must. I lunched with Lord Grandbor- 
ough yesterday, and he has offered me a post of fifteen hun- 
dred a year, in Saint Valentine's Island. 

Mary. Saint Valentine's Island! But, Will, that's the 
island where all the Europeans die of fever? 

Will. Not all. I am young and strong. I must risk it. 

Mary (clinging to him). You shall not go. 

Will. I must. I have all but accepted it. I have to give 
Lord Grandborough my answer in London to-morrow morn- 
ing, and start at once with despatches. The niggers have 
been rising again, and they expect some nasty work. 

Mary. But I am sure mother would not wish it. Oh, 
Will, her heart is bound up in you! She would rather leave 
the Chase and live in a cottage. 

Will. What good would th?.t do? And she would have to 
be told the wretched secret I have been keeping from her all 
these years. She is not used to poverty — she could not bear 
it. My mother, with all her pride and high notions — in' a 
cottage — I can't fancy it! Besides, I want to keep the old 
Chase, and I will, every brick, every tree that's left to me. 
And this is the only way I can do it. I reckon I shall pay off 
the mortgage in fifteen years if I live. 

Mary. But if you die — oh. Will, if yoti should die! 

W^ill {very quietly and tenderly). That's not the worst 
thing that can happen to a man. Before I start I shall in- 
sure my life for a sufficient sum to keep my mother in com- 
fort. But I shall not die. I mean to come back to Europe, 
say in fifteen years, and enjoy myself. 

Mary. You will be nearly fifty. 

Will. Yes, quite an old fogey! 

Mary. Oh, Will, I can't bear' it! 

Will. You must. Remember you have to take care of 
our mother, and keep all this trouble from her. We must 
trump up some tale about Lord Grandborough having in- 
vited me to stay with him for a few weeks, and then when I 
have left England I can write and prepare her for the long 
separation. 

Mary. You have quite made up your mind — nothing will 
change you? 

Will. Nothing, short of a miracle. 

Mary. Then trust me — I will do all you wish. 

Will. That's my own brave sister! 

Mary. And Judy — I thought you cared for her 



SWEET WILL. 13 

Will. Too much to ask her to waste her Hfe with mine. 
Not a word to her. Hark! They are coming. Come! Look 
bright and happy! I have but an hour to stay! 

Enter l., Mrs. Darbyshire and Judy, 

Mrs. D. My dear Will {kissing him with great affection). 
My dear boy! 

Will. Mother! 

Mrs. D. You truant, to run away from your poor old 
mother like this! I shall buy a chain and chain you to my 
side for the next six months, do you hear? 

Will {with assumed carelessness). Ah, Judy! How d'ye 
do? 

Judy (very coldly). Quite well, thank you. 

{Goes tip stage and looks out of windozv.) 

Mary. Oh, I must have one good cry, and then I can bear 
it. {Exit L.) 

Mrs. D. Have you dined, Will? 

Will. Yes, I had an hour to wait at the junction. 

Mrs. D. Then come and sit by the fire and tell me all the 
news. And then I have got a very important piece of news 
to tell you. Judy, won't you come to the fire? 

Judy {up at window). Thank you ; I like to watch the 
snow. {Aside.) He doesn't take a bit of notice of me. 

(Mrs. Darbyshire and Will S2t at fire.) 

Mrs. D. {stroking Will's hair very fondly). Now tell me, 
whom did you see in London? Did you call on the Marquis 
of Naseby?' 

Will. No, mother. {Aside.) How shall I break it to her? 

Mrs. D. Ah, that was wrong, Will. You ought to keep 
up the acquaintance. The late Marquis was a particular 
friend of mine. He bought you a humming-top in the Bur- 
lington Arcade. 

Will {with qniet humour). Yes, and I fanc}^ the present 
IMarquis thinks the money was very badly laid out, — especially 
as the top wouldn't hum. 

Mrs. D. Never mind, it spun round very nicely. And 
I've got the top upstairs, — ^Judy, do you hear? — the hum- 
ming-top that the Marquis of Naseby presented to Will, — I 
am keeping it as a present for Will's eldest son. 

Will. Don't reckon other people's chickens before they 
are hatched. 

Mrs. D. Well, did you see anybody else? 

Will. I saw Grandborough,— lunched with him. 

Mrs. D. Judy, do you hear? Will lunched with Lord 
Grandborough. (To Will.) How's his gout? 

Will. Bad. He swore terribly at his man. {Aside.) I 
can't tell her. 

Mrs. D. But he received you kindly? 



14 SWEET WILL. 

Will. Oh, yes; in fact — he — he — he gave me a sort of 
invitation 

Mrs. D. To Grandborough Court? 

Will. Well — no — not exactly to Grandborough Court. 

Mrs. D. Ah, to Saint James's Square. Judy, do you 
hear? — my cousin Grandborough has invited Will to stay 
with him. {To Will.) Well, what else? Did Lady Grand- 
borough ask after me ? 

Will. Oh yes, very kindly. {Aside.) That's a fib, but 
it'll please her. 

Mrs. D. Did she express any wish to see me? 

Will. Well, only a general wish, — if you were up in town 
no doubt 5^ou'd call. 

Mrs. D. Ah, my dear, we're poor. We live in a shabby 
sort of way, and only keep two servants. That's the reason 
our company is not sought after. But dg you know who- 
Lady Grandborough's grandfather was? 

Will. I don't know him from Adam. 

Mrs. D. Judy, do you know? 

Judy. No. Isn't the snow pretty? {Aside.) He hasn't 
said a word to me. 

Mrs. D. Why he kept a small draper's shop in the Tot- 
tenham Court Road. I've heard all about her antecedents. 
But I'm glad Grandborough has recognized your talents. 
Well, what else? 

Will. Nothing else of consequence. {Aside.) Mary must 
break it to her — she'll only get asking a lot of questions and 
I should betray myself. 

(Mrs. Darbyshire has gone up to window and brought Judy 
down stage.) 

Mrs. D. Well, now Judy and I have got a piece of news 
for you. 

Will. Oh? What's that? 

Mrs. D. Judy's going to be married. 

Will {hurt, startled). Married!! {Recovering himself, in 
quite a careless tone.) Ah! That's right! Who's the happy 
man? 

Mrs. D. Come Judy, tell him all about it. 

Will. Now Judy, who is it? 

Judy {hiding her head). Mr. Gathercole has made me an 
offer. 

Will {warmly). Sam Gathercole! The best fellow that 
ever breathed! I'm delighted to hear it! Let me congrat- 
ulate you. {Shaking hands; aside.) Better so! 

Judy. Oh, but I'm not going to accept — I mean I haven't 
quite settled 

Mrs. D. Judy is a little bit puzzled as to what she should 
say. 



SWEET WILL. 15 

Will (in a merry tone). Say? Why say "Yes," of course 
while he's in the humour; he may change his mind. 

Mrs. D. But she has to write her answer. Now, Will, you: 
are a capital letter writer, and if you could give her an idea, 
how to word it 

Will. Me? {Desperately.) What have I got to do with 
it? ^ 

Mrs. D. Don't you see, you stupid fellow, Judy doesn't 
want to jump down his throat 

Judy. As if I had never had an offer before. 

Mrs. D. She hasn't quite made up her mind. She wants 
to write doubtfully 

Will. Very well, that's easy enough. What have I done 
that I should be saddled with this business? 

{Walking desperately up and down.) 

Mrs. D. (taking hifn by the shoidders, forcing him into chair 
against table). Don't be a bear. Will. Here is pen and ink. 
Now write a nice letter for her — she will tell you what to 
say. You have only half-an-hour before post, so I will leave 
you. 

Will (with apparent good humour). Oh, very well, if I 
must, I must. (Aside.) Thank God, it will soon be over! 
(Aloud.) Oh, mother, ask Mary to tell you about Lord, 
Grandborough's invitation. 

Mrs. D. Very well, my dear. Come, put your heads- 
together! (Exit l., looking at them.) 

Will (at table — all through this scene he assumes a fierce 
and reckless gaiety). Now, Judy, how shall we begin this very 
important letter? 

Judy (pouting). I don't know. (Aside.) To treat me like 
this-. 

Will. Come, what shall we say? Or stay, you had better 
write — I'll dictate. 

(Will rises, gives Judy the pen, she sits at the table, sulkily.} 

Will (dictating). "Dear Sam " 

Judy (resolutely). No. 

(Throws away the pen, takes up another.) 

Will. Well, "Dear Samuel." 

Judy (throwing away the pen) . No — I hate the name. 

Will. What's in a name? (She throws away another pen.) 
What's the matter with the pens? 

Judy {much offended). There isn't one fit to write with in 
the place! Not one! 

Will (taking up a pen, and testing the 'point). This is a 
good one. Now (dictating), "Dear Mr. Gathercole " 

Judy (writing). "Dear Mr. Gathercole." (Breaks off sud- 
denly.) I had a letter from m}'- cousin, Mr. Boggett, by this 
evening's post. 



16 SWEET WILL. 

Will. Dear old fellow! We had a pleasant time of it in 
London. I took him to the Monument and Saint Paul's. 
He marched up to the top like the mighty Duke of York, 
•and then marched down again, while I waited below all the 
time. And what a rollicking day we had at the British 
Museum! How is he? 

Judy. He's quite well. He sent a message for you — a 
very important message! 

Will. Oh, what was that? 

Judy. I shan't tell you. (Aside.) I can never give him 
Cousin Peter's letter now. 

Will. Come, we are not getting on. (Dictating.) "Dear 
Mr. Gathercole " 

Judy. You said that before. 

Will. Of course, Judy, you have made up your mind to 
marry him. 

Judy. Not if I found there was somebody I liked better. 

Will. Oh, you'll never do better. He's a man in a 
thousand. So proceed — "I have much pleasure " 

Judy (ivriting). " I have much pleasure " 

Will. "In accepting your kind offer " 

Judy. "In accepting your kind offer." 

Will. "Yours faithfully," or "Yours devotedly, Judith 
Loveless." There, you've got it in a nutshell. 

Judy (reading it). No, that's too abrupt! 

Will. Not a bit, it's neat, compact, business-like, and 
above all determined! There's nothing like showing a firm 
front to start with, letting him know that you don't mean to 
be trifled with! 

Judy (furiously). I won't be trifled with! 

Will (cheerfully). That's right! You're a girl of spirit! 
You deserve to have a husband — and to rule him when you've 
got him. Have you finished your letter? 

Judy. No (tearing up the letter) ! I can write a better one 
myself (sits down to table and writes a letter very quickly) . 

Will. As you please. (She is writing l. of table — he is 
standing at fireplace with hack to fire — he stretches out his arms 
to her involuntarily.) (Aside.) Oh, if I dared but speak one 
word, if I dared but hold you in my arms for one moment! 

Judy (rising). There! (Addressing and sealing up her let- 
ter.) I shall post.it to-night, so as not to keep him in un- 
certainty. 

Will. Of course, that's best. 

Judy (aside). I've given him a flat refusal. 

Will. Pray give him my congratulations. 

Judy. That's a matter of course. By the way, I left a 
glove in this room the other morning. 

Will (carelessly). Ah, I found one, and put it in my 
secretaire. (Going to secretaire, unlocking it, taking out glove.) 
I couldn't imagine whom it belonged to. 



SWEET WILL. 17 

Judy {triumphantly). Then wh)^ did you kiss it? 

Will (confused). I — I — kiss it! What do you mean? 

Judy. Kiss it. Don't you know what that means ? Kiss 
it! 

Will. Oh, you are quite mistaken. 

Judy. I'm not! You did kiss it! You did! You did! 

Will (lamely). Well — the fact is — I — .1 — I — Fanny Robin-, 
son had called the previous evening and I thought it was 
hers. But here it is (giving glove). Don't you go and tell 
her. 

Judy. I will the very first opportunity. (Throws the glove 
on the fire; aside.) I won't tell her, but I'll never forgive 
'lim. 

Will (snatching it from the flames). Don't do that! It 
night be useful to you. (Throws glove carelessly on table.) 

Judy. I don't like the colour — it's sandy — like Mr. Gather- 
c 'e's beard. 

Will. Don't revile his beard. He's a dear, good, large- 
hearted fellow. I don't know anybody whom I would sooner 
trust with a woman's happiness than Sam Gathercole. His. 
wife will be a lucky woman. 

Judy. But he has got a red beard, now confess, hasn't he, 
quite carrotty? 

Will. Well, I should call it tawny. 

Judy. Tawny! Tawny!! Tawny!!! (With a shout of 
furious derision.) I'm going to post this letter! 

(Exit, L., defiantly banging the door.} 

Will (sijiking into a chair) . What have I done ? Why did 
I not tell her all? And what then? Marry her and take 
her over to that infernal island to die, or leave her here ta 
waste all her youth in waiting for me! No, my little light- 
hearted darling, I love you too much to blight your best days 
like that! (Takes up the glove from table, kisses it; as Judy 
enters he criishes it confusedly into his pocket.) 

Enter Judy, l., ivith letter in her hand. 

Judy (in a quavering voice, almost in tears). I'm going to 
post this letter. I mean it. 

Will (springing up, snakes a movement to clasp her, restrains 
hitnself, — very coldly). Of course. Why did you write it else.?- 

Exit Judy, l.) 

Vv^ill (pale and trembling). Thank God, I conquered! 
She will be happy as his wife, and she will learn to forget 
me. Better so, better a thousand times! I have nothing but 
beggary and privation to offer her! It would be madness. 
(Taking out his watch.) Twenty past nine. I have barely an 
hour. (Rings bell.) Betty must pack my portmanteau. Now, 
Fortune, you have done your worst to me! Once away frorrx 
home I will laugh at you! 



18 SWEET WILL. 



Enter Betty, door l. 



Will. Betty, pack my portmanteau for a month. 

Betty. La, Master Will, you never can mean that! 

Will. Yes I do. Pack it at once. I am going by to- 
night's mail. 

Betty. Oh deary me, whatever has happened ! Oh, 
Master Will, now don't 'ee do nothing hasty, there's my 
precious boy, now don't 'ee. 

Will. What do you mean? Do as I tell you this instant. 

Betty {wringing her hands). Oh, Master Will, you know 
I've had the bringing of 'ee up, and I love 'ee dearer than my 
own life, that I do, and now don't 'ee be offended with me 
'cause I have allays loved both of 'ee, and said as you was 
made for one another, and now don't 'ee go and break it off 
in a moment of temper. Go and make it up — she's waiting 
for 'ee to do it — there's my precious boy, don't 'ee quarrel 
with her for sure now. 

Will. Quarrel? What on earth do you mean? 

Betty. Why there's that precious lamb crying her eyes 
•out in the kitchen. Now do 'ee go and kiss her now, do 'ee, 
Master Will. {Nudging his elbow coaxingly.) 

Will. Judy crying. {About to rush off, restraining himself.) 
Well, it's nothing to do with me. 

Betty. Oh don't 'ee say that. Master Will, for she loves 
you true, that she do. 

Will {sternly). I tell you it's no affair of mine. Do as I 
bid you — pack my portmanteau. 

Betty. Very well, Master Will, if you says so of course I 
must do it. But I never thought as my young master was 
the man to break a poor girl's heart as trusted to him, that I 
never did. {Aside.) I'll go and tell Mrs. Darbyshire all 
about it! {Exit l.) 

Will. Break her heart ! Well, I must bear it, I suppose! 
Another hour will see the end of it! If I can only last out 
till then! I wonder if Mary has told mother. That will be 
the next difficulty. What excuse can I trump up for rushing 
off on a night like this ? 

Enter Mrs. Darbyshire, l. 

Mrs. D. Now, Will, Avhat is all this fuss between you and 
Judy? 

Will. What fuss? 

Mrs, D. Why Betty tells me you have quarrelled with 
Judy, and are going off by the mail train. 

Will. Quite true, I am going by the mail train. 

Mrs. D. Did you write the letter to Mr. Gathercole? 

Will. Judy wrote it. 

Mrs. D. She accepted him? 



SWEET WILL. 19 

Will. I believe so. She has gone to post it. 

Mrs. D. Now Will, be quite candid with me. You are in 
love with Judy. (Will is about to deny it.) Oh, don't deny 
it! You can't deceive your mother. Of course this is a 
great blow to you, and you think it better to leave the Chase 
for a time; isn't it so? 

Will {aside). It would be a good excuse for my sudden 
departure! She will never let me get away else. 

Mrs. D. Isn't it so? 

Will. Mother, you have guessed right. 

Mrs. D. I was sure of it. 

Will. Judy's acceptance of Mr. Gathercole has cut me 
up very much, and I think it better to go away for a few 
months. You mustn't mind — you must spare me. I shall 
get the better of it in time. But not a word of this to Judy, 
do you hear? 

Mrs. D. {smiling). Oh, not a word! 

Will. It would make her unhappy. I am going to tell 
Tom to put in the pony and drive me over to the junction. 
Remember, not a word to Judy! 

Mrs. D. Of course I won't. {Exit Will, r.) Of course I 
will! The silly fellow, to throw away his happiness like 
that! It's lucky he's got a mother to take care of him! 

Enter Judy, l. 

Judy. Where is he? Oh, what can he think of me! I 
wish I had never tried your plan. I was sure it would 
fail. 

Mrs. D. And I'm sure it has not failed. 

Judy. What do you mean? 

Mrs. D. My dear, he's head over ears in love with you! 

Judy {with sudden joy). Oh, you don't say so— I don't 
believe it. {Aside.) He has taken my glove. 

Mrs. D. He has just told me so with his own lips. 

Judy. Then why didn't he tell me so with his own lips? 

Mrs. D. And Avhat do you think ? He actually talks 
about going away by the mail this very night ! 

Judy. Why? 

'Mrs. D. Because he can't endure being near you now you 
are engaged. Oh, he's in a dreadful state, the poor, dear, 
stupid fellow! 

Judy. I am so glad. 

Mrs. D. But you must have used him very badly. You 
have nearly broken his heart. 

Judy. He has nearly broken mine. 

Mrs. D. I never saw him so much cut up. What did you 
sa}^ to him? 

Judy. I forget, I know he provoked me very much. 

Mrs. D. But you shouldn't have treated him unkindly, 



20 SWEET WILL. 

you foolish girL' And I am sure you must have done so, or 
he could never want to run away from home. 

Judy. Oh, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to be unkind to 
him. I love him so much! 

Mrs. D. But you shouldn't pla}^ fast and loose, Judy. Yovl 
see you have almost driven him away and lost your chance — 

Judy. Oh, don't say that. If he had only said one word — 

Mrs. D. My dear Judy, Will is not a fool. You have 
played your cards very badly. Do you mean to tell me that 
if you had given him a chance he wouldn't have spoken out 
to you, as he did to me in this very room a moment ago! 

Judy. Well, I was angry with him; but he might have 
seen I didn't mean it. 

Mrs. D. Ah, but my Will is very sensitive, and depend 
upon it you have hurt him very much. 

Judy. What can I do? 

Mrs. D. Well, fortunately, you can make amends. When 
he comes in you must tell him that you are very sorry you 
treated him as you did, and you will never be wilful and 
coquettish again! Poor fellow! He loves you devotedly, 
and the more I think of it the more certain I feel you have 
wounded him very deeply 

Judy (Jialf in tears). Oh, I wouldn't for the world! I will 
tell him how sorry I am! 

Mrs. D. Hark! He's coming! Now don't be a foolish 
girl and let him slip through your fingers this time. Re- 
member, husbands like my Will are not to be pjcked up 
every day. {Exit, l.) 

Will {heard off, r.). Bring the pony round when you 
have harnessed her. I shall be ready in ten minutes. 

Enter Will, r. 

Judy moves a step or two towards him very shyly and 
penitently, looking at him very lovingly as if begging 
forgiveness, making a little yearning movement towards 
hitn with her arms; Will steels himself against her; 
at length she goes up to him and puts her hand lovingly 
on his shoulder, looking at him with great love and sup- 
plication in her eyes. 

Judy {after a pause, very softly and penitently). I am so 
sorry, Will. {He turns away from her.) I didn't mean to be 
a naughty girl. {Pause, stroking his shoulder.) I wouldn't 
hurt you for the world — I love you so much. {He turns away 
from her). Oh, Will, I do love you, indeed I do! (Will tears 
himself from- her, and utters a desperate cry, throwing himself 
in a chair and burying his face on the table. Judy, going up to 
him, in the same quiet, entreating voice.) Do forgive me. Your 
mother has told me alll 



SWEET WILL. 21 

Will (starting up with great indignation) . Plague on her 
chattering tongue! I am bound to leave here by to-night's 
mail on business of life or death — its nature is such that I 
cannot explain it to my mother — -I jump at an 3' excuse that 
will account for my departure — she will have it that it is 
owing to your engagement to Mr. Gathercole — I allow her to 
think so, and of course she goes and tells you the next moment ! 
Good heavens. Vv'here is the end to the mischief a woman's 
tongue will do! 

Judy (horrified). Then you — you do not love me? Oh! 
What have I done? What have 1 said? Oh, I could kill 
myself! Oh, j'^ou have been cruel to me! (She looks at him 
with great reproach and then bursts into tears.) 

Will, flinging off all restraint, clasps Jier to Jiim—she 
hides her face with her hands. Will kisses her hands, 
and tries to tear them from her face. 

Will. Judy! Judy! My own! Look at me! 1 love you a 
thousand times better than life! Judy! Hear me! I can't 
tell you how dear you are to me! 

Judy. Oh, no, no, no, I can never love you now. Oh, let 
me go home! Oh, I shall never forgive myself! I could bite 
my tongue out! 

Will. Listen to me, Judy, I have but a few minutes. I 
have always loved you — -believe it or not, as you please — 
there's not an atom of you but's worth all heaven to me — I 
love you through and through to the heart's core — God judge 
me else! But I am an milucky wretch — through no fault of 
mine I am a beggar, and worse than a beggar. And I could 
not drag you down with me! 

Judy {clinging to him). Oh, Will, I don't mind that a bit. 

Will. But that's not all. In two days I leave England for 
many years 

Judy. And I? 

Will. I'm going to Saint Valentine's Island — a wretchedly 
tmhealthy hole 

Judy. "Unhealthy! And you are going! Oh, no, Will, for 
my sake 

Will. Unhealthy for women, I mean. The men stand it 
well enough. Oh there's no fear for me. 

Judy. Nor for me, I will go too. You shall take me. Will, 
yes, you shall 

Will. To poverty and disease, and perhaps death 

Judy. Yes, with you. I would rather have them with you 
than health and wealth and long life with anybody else. 

Will. I cannot accept your sacrifice. 

Judy. It is no sacrifice. Oh, don't deceive yourself! It is 
just what I would choose for myself! I would do it if I knew 
I had to die to-morrow! But don't fear for me! I am young 



22 SWEET WILL. 

and strong; I will help you and work for you — I won't be a 
bit of a burden to you. Don't refuse me — where you go I 
will go, where you live I will live — your people shall be my 
people, and your God my God! Nothing but death shall part 
us ! 

Will {fervently). My little God's gift! 'This is Avorth all 
I have endured! 

Judy. You will take me, won't you? 

Will. Not now. The island is too unsettled; but you 
shall come out to me when I get things straight — say in three 
years. 

Judy. Oh no, that's too long — life is so short — there is 
only time just to learn to love, and then we have to die! 
Oh, no, not three years! 

Will. Well, two years then. You might change your 
mind. 

Judy {through her tears). When the sun shines at mid- 
night I will. 

Will {taking out his watch). Five minutes more and I 
must be gone! I want to have a word with my mother. 

{Going to door, l.) 

Judy. Oh, wait, I've got a letter for you from cousin 

Peter. I daredn't give it you before, because 

{Giving letter from pocket.) 

Will. Because — why? 

Judy. Because I believe the stupid man takes it for granted 
that you and I are engaged. 

Will. So we are. 

Judy. But I couldn't give it to you before we were en- 
gaged, could I? Read it. What does he say? 

Will {reading lettei). "Dear Mr. Darbyshire, I daresay 
you'll think me a very odd sort of fellow " 

Judy. So he is. 

Will. "But a notion has got into m}^ head that you're 
a little bit sweet " 

Judy {nestling to him). A little bit sweet! You're a great, 
big bit sweet! 

Will. "Bit sweet on my cousin Judy. Of course, if you 
are not " 

Judy. Ah, but you are, aren't you? 

Will. "There's an end of the matter. But if you are, 
I thought there would be no harm in letting j^ou know that 
her husband w411 have fifty thousand dollars from me to start 
housekeeping " 

Judy. Oh, Will! There's not a bit of harm in letting you 
know that, is there? 

Will. "And as I have no near relations of my own, I 
shall settle a hundred thousand dollars on her on her wed- 
ding-day. I've written a letter to the little puss herself " 

Judy. Yes, it made me so angry, but I'll forgive him 



SWEET WILL. 23 

vViLL. "And made matters all right for you, so if you love 
her, go in and win ! ' ' 

Judy. So you have, haven't you? 

Will. "In return for your kindness to me in London " 

Judy. The Monument, and St. Paul's and the British 
Museum! 

Will. "I should like you to spend your honeymoon at 
Chicago, with yours faithfully, Peter Boggctt," 

Enter, door l., Betty, bringing portmanteau. 

Betty. There you are, Master Will, there's your port- 
manteau! 

Will. Take it back, Betty, I shan't want it. 

Betty {grinning all over her face). La, bless your dear 
heart. Master Will, I know'd that! 

Enter, l., Mrs. Darbyshire, very excited, followed by Mary. 

Mr:.. D. JVill, what's all this tale about your going away 
from home.? I insist on knowing! 

Will (coolly). Nothing, mother, nothing! I have changed 
my mind, and am going to stay at home and give you an- 
other daughter. (Presenting Judy.) 

Mrs. D. (kissing Judy). My darling girl! (With great 
glee.) Ah, you see, I was right! I was sure my plan would 
bring him to your feet ! 

Mary. But, Will, how have you managed this? 

Will (giving her Boggett's letter — very quietly). Oh, 
where there's a Will there's a Way. (Taking Judy's hand.) 



Curtain 



LIBRftRY OF CONGRESS 

JH 

014 491 485 5 



